Page 99 of Game Point
‘You can have my bed,’ I said easily, picking up the pillows and covers, piling them high in my arms.
‘No.’ He didn’t move an inch.
‘I’ll take the air mattress.’
‘Absolutely not.’ Oliver shook his head. ‘I’m fine with the couch.’
I sighed, hobbling past him to the hallway, ‘I’m not letting you sleep another night on the goddamn couch.’
I moved through to his bedroom. Boxes still lined the walls, but the room was tidy. He’d been here for longer than a month, and we still hadn’t sorted this room out. ‘We can go and pick up a proper bed and mattress for the spare room tomorrow, but tonight, please take mine.’
‘No, Dylan. You need your sleep, and besides, you’re injured.’
My nose wrinkled with annoyance as I threw my bedding onto the air mattress. ‘I’ve sprained my ankle, I’mnot dying.’ I looked at him, crossing my arms. ‘How bad can it be?’
‘Really? How bad?’ He laughed once, pointing to the bed. ‘You try it.’
‘Okay fine.’ I said, sitting down on the bed. I swung my legs around and lay on the bed, wiggling to get comfortable. ‘See it’s not that …’ I muttered, trying to lie still and find a comfortable position. I could somewhat understand what he was saying. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world. ‘It’s fine if I sleep on my side.’
I made eye contact with Oliver, who was now leaning against the doorway, a shit-eating grin across his face. ‘Okay, maybe the other side.’ I rolled over, each movement as uncomfortable as the last.
‘Just admit it, Dylan,’ Oliver crooned.
I mumbled, wiggling again, trying to will my body into comfort. ‘I’m sure if I lie still enough I’ll drift off to sleep.’
He laughed from behind me, before adding, ‘I’m going downstairs so no matter what, your bed is free.’
Instantly, I shot up. ‘Wait. No, please. I can’t stand the idea of you curled up down there.’ I pushed myself from the bed. ‘The back pain must be awful.’
He shrugged uncaringly. ‘I mean, it’s better than the air mattress.’
I didn’t disagree. Tomorrow, I had a strong intention to take a pin to that air mattress and watch it exhale its last breath for what it had done to my body in the last thirty seconds.
He turned, heading towards the stairs. I eased myselfup from the bed, shouting from behind him. ‘Let’s just … share.’
He paused, turning around with a look of confusion. ‘The sofa?’
‘The bed.’ Those two words hung in the air between us, lingering as we both stayed silent for the longest moment. The silence bit at me, swallowing up all the oxygen in the space between us.
‘No.’ The word punched through the hush, the firm line of Oliver’s jaw settling.
I placed a hand on my hip, taking another risk.Might as well double down.‘Oliver, we’ve done it before.’
‘No.’
‘Just this time …’ I attempted to salvage the offer, ‘there will be far more clothing.’
The firm line of his lips remained. ‘Please, Dylan, don’t joke.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. I wasn’t even sure I was pushing this idea. Surely, this would be hell for me as well as him. ‘Please, we are both adults. We can share a bed without getting it on.’
He leaned against the banister of the stairs, as if requiring the physical support to keep him upright. ‘Again with the joking?’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t stop.’ I pushed away all the other ten jokes that instantly came to mind, my own discomfort at the situation only fuelling my need to mock it. Sharing a bed was the logical situation. If he wasn’t going to take the bed, wasn’t going to let me sleep anywhere else, then what else was left?
But even the idea of lying next to him in the very bedwhere he’d last touched me was a mix of deep discomfort and extreme longing. As if I was already too keenly aware of the torture I was signing myself up for. Would I even sleep? Or would I lie awake watching the way his chest rose and fell, mesmerized by even the smallest of actions from him?
He looked more exhausted than I’d ever seen him, as his fingers pushed his hair back. ‘I don’t know, Dylan.’
